Shadow Duel (Prof Croft Book 9) by Brad Magnarella (ereader with android .txt) 📕

epitomized the three d’s of the Discovery Society: devotion, diligence, and, of course, discovery.”

Light glistened from the dark hair of Sunita Sharma’s bowed head, while Walter Mims compulsively smoothed his mustache with a finger and thumb.

“During his four years on the Council,” Strock continued, “Bear led nine expeditions and published his findings in journals too numerous to mention. He was always pushing the boundaries of the known. And all while serving as CEO in one of the highest pressure industries there is. Second to real estate, of course,” he added, which drew some laughs from the somber room.

“It’s no secret that Bear and I were competitive. We shouted, we fought—hell, I even threw a punch at him at the Founder’s Banquet last year. But I’d like to think I drove him, just as he drove me, and that those repeated collisions of our—let’s face it, our egos—hoisted the club’s flag that much higher.”

As he patted the folded flag in Bear’s place, I whispered, “Competitive over what?”

“Everything,” Ludvig answered. “Bear used to go around saying Strock’s contributions to exploration were shit, mostly because he didn’t write his own research. Bear didn’t think he should be the club’s president.”

Power struggle, I noted.

Strock started into a story about an expedition he and Bear co-funded.

“Was it the same way with Sunita?” I asked.

“Not quite,” Ludvig whispered back. “They were … very friendly.”

I looked over in surprise. He nodded, his crossed eyes bright over his crooked teeth. “Oh, yes. Worst-kept secret in the club. Bear ended it after his wife separated from him.”

Spurned lover? I noted, this one with a question mark.

“How did Bear get along with your sponsor?” I asked.

“They were as different as two people could be. Bear was very loud and outspoken. He enjoyed an audience. Walter prefers the quiet of an observatory or his office. As far as I know, they barely talked.”

Strock concluded his eulogy with a minute of silence. The meeting then proceeded to announcements and votes. All the while, I made small adjustments to my cane, trying to draw a precise bead on the potion, but no dice. I would need to wait for the end of the meeting to get closer to the fellows.

“Is anyone here applying for membership?” Sunita asked the room.

I was almost too slow to grab Ludvig’s hand as it went up. A few heads turned toward our ensuing scuffle, but when no one spoke, Sunita nodded.

“That concludes our meeting, then.”

“Why did you do that?” Ludvig asked with a wounded expression.

I stood, releasing his hand. “I just think I should get a feel for the club first. You know, walk around, talk to some people.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” he said, then called, “Walter!”

The thin man, who was consulting with the other two fellows, looked over irritably. When Ludvig continued to wave, he came over.

“What is it?” he asked as he arrived in front of us, sounding more like Ludvig’s babysitter than his sponsor.

“This is Everson Croft. The prospective member I told you about.”

“Indeed.” Walter Mims gave me a critical up and down. “And what is your expertise, Mr. Croft?”

“Mythology and lore. I’m a professor at Midtown College.”

“Mythology and lore.” He sniffed. “Well, perhaps you’ll be interested in our community program. It comes with a discount on lectures and a Discovery Society pin. Now if you’ll both excuse me…”

Ludvig looked disappointed as his mentor walked away, but I’d gotten what I’d wanted from the exchange. Walter wasn’t the potion carrier. That left Strock and Sunita. The first had waded onto the main floor, where members thronged him. Sunita was still at the fellows’ table, stowing meeting materials into her bag.

“Wait here,” I told Ludvig and approached her.

Sunita was younger than she’d appeared from a distance. Her jet black hair was brushed to a sheen that hung neatly over one shoulder of her red, gold-beaded sari. She also possessed a mystical quality I couldn’t quite pinpoint. She glanced up and caught me staring.

“Can I help you?” she asked, her green eyes narrowing slightly.

I was scrambling for something to say when I noticed a gold pin on the shoulder of her sari. It depicted a thick hand with a pointed object pinched between its first finger and thumb. “The right hand of Ganesh?” I asked.

She touched the pin, a curious smile playing across her lips. “How do you know about the right hand?”

“Years ago I did a study on protective symbols across cultures. I won’t bore you with the details. I just wanted to say it’s beautiful.”

“Thanks,” she said, the touch becoming a caress. “It was handed down through my family.”

That was where the mystical quality was coming from. The right hand of the elephant god, Ganesh, exuded a subtle protective energy. The pointed object between his finger and thumb was the broken end of his tusk.

“Dr. Sharma?” someone asked.

I turned to find a member waiting to talk to her. I motioned for him to go ahead and said goodbye to Sunita. Though her pin was interesting, she wasn’t the potion-carrier either. That left Strock.

Beware the shadow of many faces, the Doideag had said. But fear the master of many places.

Strock’s role as president of an explorer’s club seemed to fit the bill for the second. I turned, but there was a void where he’d been standing. I looked around. He was no longer in the meeting room. I rushed to Ludvig, who remained parked beside the globe, smiling over the room as if he were among his dearest friends—despite that no one had approached him or appeared ready to now.

“What happened to Strock?” I asked.

“The club has a lounge upstairs with a bar. Some of the members go there after the meeting. Often before the meeting too,” he added with a conspiratorial smile. As I hurried away to the corridor of portraits in search of a staircase, I heard Ludvig exclaim, “Wait!  It is only for members!”

I needed to confirm the potion was on Strock. Then it would be a matter of staying close, determining how